


Tool

by WetSammyWinchester



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Aftermath of Violence, Gen, Mark of Cain, Post-Episode: s10e03 Soul Survivor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-13
Updated: 2017-04-13
Packaged: 2018-10-18 10:30:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 335
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10615047
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WetSammyWinchester/pseuds/WetSammyWinchester
Summary: A few things need to be fixed in the Bunker after Dean is cured.





	

He started to reach into the drawer before he saw it. 

A pipe in the Men of Letters shower room was leaking and that steady _drip-drip-drip_ was getting on Dean’s last nerve, an easy thing with the Mark on his arm. _Better to fix, better to keep busy_.

Halfway down the Bunker hallway, a door hung on its hinges, splintered and broken, that should be replaced but he and Sam had tiptoed around it for three days without a word. _Better not to think, to ignore_.

When he pulled open the utility drawer, the wrench he needed slid into view and beside it, the hammer. Dean held his breath, then skated his fingertips down the scarred red handle and dark steel head. The compulsion to pick it up again was tunneling dark through his veins; a diamond-bright drill bit pushing out from his hind brain, looking for something to hurt, to damage. _Pick it up._

“Dean?”

Sam stood in the kitchen doorway, eyes on the drawer, on Dean’s hand. For such a big guy, his brother moved through the Bunker on feet as quiet as cat paws. Sam's fingers fluttered against the door frame, a muscle ticking in his neck. His tongue darted out to lick at his lips without thought as he raised his eyes to meet Dean’s. _All the signs of prey ready to run. Sam should know better than that._

They stood still for the endless time it took them to exhale; Dean felt his muscles coil, like a lion settling on its haunches, watching a gazelle crash through the long grass. Sam blinked several times, and it broke the moment. Dean snatched the adjustable wrench out of the drawer, the weight of it heavy in his palm ( _good_ _but not quite right_ ), and held it up for Sam to see, shutting the drawer with his hip.

“Just a leaky pipe in the shower room, Sam.” 

“Dean—” Sam said, but Dean pushed past him into the hallway. 

“Not today, okay? Not today.”


End file.
